


Love Easy

by mssrj_335



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DeanCas mentioned, Hate to Love, Love Tattoos, M/M, Platonic Love, Sappy Ending, Some angst, Soulmate Tattoos, featuring Sam's capacity to love, mentions of unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 12:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5966782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tattoos appear when he loves.  When an encounter with the Trickster leaves the sensation of a new tattoo behind, Sam is left wondering why.  </p><p>Idea originally from: http://mileskane.tumblr.com/post/128408236606/au-where-everyone-is-born-with-a-very-unique</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Easy

**Author's Note:**

> These tattoos probably aren't what you imagined for the characters, but it's what I imagined so just roll with me here. Self-edited, so please point out mistakes for me!

Sam remembered the first time a new tattoo appeared.  He’d been able to see his own for as long as he could remember.  It was made by a magic that affected almost everyone, but no one could really explain how or why it worked.  Dean said his tattoo was a little robot.  A spindly little silver thing holding a heart of gold in its pincer-like hands.  Sam wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew no one else had one like it.  But, then there was the new one.  He was six years old and it was Dean’s tattoo.  His big brother had saved him from death by starvation, or at least that’s the way it seemed to six-year-old Sam.  In reality, Dean had cooked him the last box of macaroni and cheese just the way he liked it and stolen cake for his birthday.  Of course, Sam didn’t know at the time that it was the last of the macaroni and that his brother pretended not to feel the empty hole in his stomach.  Nor did he know the cake was stolen.  What he did know was that Dean would always be there to take care of him.  And, on the night of his sixth birthday, a winged slice of pie had started to show, high on his right collarbone.  It never faded.

 

The next tattoo appeared when he was ten years old.  A girl that sat next to him in class had said hello.  The tattoo hadn’t appeared right then, but a few weeks later when she brought a book from home and let him borrow it, a small skeleton bunny finally inked on top of his foot.  It wasn’t even a book he liked, but it was the first time in all the time he’d spent moving around that someone cared enough to be his friend.  John moved them a few days later, before Sam could return her book…or give her the flowers he’d picked.  Over time, the tattoo faded but he never forgot.

 

Bobby’s tattoo showed up when Sam was twelve.  The old man gruffly gave him a pat on the back and smiled a little sadly when Sam excitedly showed him the matching geometric pattern on his wrist.

 

“You love easy, dontcha boy,” Bobby had said.  It should have been a question, and Sam remembered tilting his head in confusion when Bobby made it a simple statement.  The hunter laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and patted Sam’s face with the other.  

 

“You listen here,” he’d said.  “The world’ll hurt you, Sammy.  But don’t you let that love go.  You hang on to it, with all ya got.”

 

Sam hadn’t really understood at the time.  

 

 

 

Between all the moving, all the fighting and storming out on angry nights, it was years until another tattoo appeared.  It was a strange sensation, because he’d almost forgotten.  It felt as if he were getting a sunburn in slow motion when he sat next to Brady in Poli-Sci 101.  Over days and weeks, a feather tattooed itself into the skin above his knee.  Sam’s heart fluttered and he felt vaguely queasy when he watched Brady present a case on marriage law in class.  He decided.  Sam approached his friend, eating on the patio of their favorite sandwich shop, after classes were done for the day.  

 

“Sam!” Brady exclaimed, smile radiant in the afternoon sun.

 

Sam’s stomach quivered.  Then, he noticed someone new.  

 

“Sam, this is Jess,” Brady said with a knowing look.

 

She was blond and beautiful and after a while, Sam let Brady’s feather fade.  In its place, vibrant vines crept across his shoulders and draped his arms in a tapestry of greenery.  But, she burned.  Sam would never forget the greens and yellows of her vines, but when she burned, her tattoos turned to ash with her.

 

Sam had no new tattoos.  At least, not for some time.  Dean sported a few more, but never as many as Sam ever had.  Then, the most peculiar thing.  Instant chemistry.  A chance encounter with a janitor-turned-demigod in Ohio left a vague burning sensation in the skin under his left collarbone.  Though sometimes Sam thought he could see the outline, the beginning of something new, it was never more than a passing shadow.  They found the Trickster again, and the burning sensation was worse.  When at last Sam met the Trickster face to face, the burning peaked.

 

“This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it,” the Trickster said, golden eyes hard and voice harsh. “Just blood and pain. Dean's your weakness. The bad guys know it, too. It's gonna be the death of you, Sam. Sometimes, you just gotta let people go.” 

 

Sam begged, and the Trickster relented, but his ‘lesson’ was one that would haunt Sam’s sleepless nights.  The burning on his clavicle lessened and nothing ever appeared, but still Sam wondered.  There was no lore, no prior knowledge for it.  Nothing to be done but wonder.

 

Ruby.  Sam didn’t think he could call it real love.  He loved her and hated her as much as he loved and hated himself.  When Dean was gone and the only thing he had left was a tattoo, Ruby inked her way into his skin.  Unlike the other tattoos, hers did not match the one on her body.  The tattoo that sat ugly and scarred on the back of Sam’s calf was the original soul’s mark, a blue heron.  Maybe that should have been a clue.  Dean railed at him for it, demanded answers that Sam would evade and would continue to evade until it was too late.  Then, Lucifer was free and Sam’s body outright rejected her ink.  Where the blue heron once sat was now a raised black scar with tendrils creeping down to his foot.

 

Then, the Trickster reappeared.  He trapped them in TVLand and the burning sensation returned.  Sometimes TVLand would put Dean somewhere else.  Sam was left alone with the constructs to play through a role and the Trickster would visit him.  Sometimes, he would only watch.  Sometimes, he would let Sam rail against him and offer quick, cutting quips in return.  Their verbal sparring matches were heated, to say the least.  Sam argued for humanity.  If this creature was so powerful, why did he not lift a hand to help?  If he lived in this world, what right had he to abandon all hope?  The Trickster argued back.  What right had Sam to demand this of him?  Did he know what the Fates had planned?  Could he pass such judgement against the story as it was written?  Sam exhausted himself arguing and sat watching; the Trickster would think to himself.  He never said anything revealing, but Sam knew he was thinking, watching.  Before he could go on, the Trickster put him back in the revolving episodes of TVLand.

 

Sam learned his true name and at last, the ghost of an image started to appear on his collarbone.  Sam didn’t understand.  He didn’t love Gabriel.  With everything the Trickster-Archangel had done, he couldn’t.  

 

He shouldn’t.

 

—

 

 

 

Gabriel appears again, this time at the Elysian Hotel.  When he sees Sam, he stares.  Hard.  He spirits Sam away to an abandoned room and yanks the man down by his collar, ripping open the buttons to Sam’s flannel shirt.

 

“What is that?” Gabriel asks faintly, tracing the outline of Sam’s not-tattoo with one gentle finger.

 

Sam yanks back, surprised to find the archangel let him go.  “It’s nothing,” he says firmly.  

 

Gabriel narrows his eyes and stares.  The tattoo is only an outline, barely visible, but visible enough and huge.  It is a horn, twisted like the angel horns in stained glass windows and taking up skin from his collarbone to the peak of his nipple.  And, there’s a clock face set in the center of it.  Where there should have been twisted metal, there was a clock face with Roman numerals, stopped at 12:37.  Gabriel purses his lips but snaps Sam back to his brother.  Try as he might, Sam can’t get Gabriel alone again to demand answer.  

 

Gabriel tries to save them, the Winchesters and the gods, when Lucifer arrives.  He appears with “Lucy, I’m home!” and his blade drawn.  Instead of fleeing, Sam gives into the rapid coloring of his tattoo and hangs out of reach but not out of sight.  He can’t leave now, there are too many unanswered questions.  Dean takes Kali out of the room, urging his brother to hurry before making a break for the door.

 

Lucifer glances at Sam, then back to Gabriel.  “Gabriel, if you're doing this for Michael…"

 

Sam can’t see it, but he can imagine the sneer on Gabriel’s face as he says, “Screw him. If he were standing here, I'd shiv his ass too.”

 

“You disloyal—"

 

“Oh, I'm loyal,” Gabriel corrects him. “To them!”

 

Lucifer scoffs.  “Who? These so called Gods?”

 

The set of Gabriel shoulders suggests incredulity.  “To _people_ , Lucifer. People.” 

 

“So you're willing to die, for a pile of cockroaches,” Lucifer says derisively.  “Why? 

 

“Because Dad was right,” Gabriel says softly.  He risks a glance back at Sam.  “They are better than us. 

 

Lucifer clenches his fists.  “They are _broken_. Flawed! Abortions.”

 

Now, Gabriel is angry.  His hand tightens around his blade. “Damn right they're flawed. But a lot of them try. To do better, to forgive. I'm not on your side, or Michael's. I'm on theirs.”

 

“I know you think you're doing the right thing, Gabriel,” Lucifer says. “But I know where your heart truly lies.”

 

Sam only has the chance to glance between the brothers before Lucifer appears before him.  The fallen archangel closes his hand around Sam’s neck and pins him up to the wall.  He narrows his eyes when Sam’s collar parts and he sees Sam’s completed tattoo.  

 

“With this,” he declares

 

Gabriel stands stock still, blade poised but motionless.  Lucifer pushes aside the fabric.  The burning is gone, Sam notes faintly.  Terror builds in him as Lucifer traces the completed golden swirl of the horn and the hands on the clock.

 

“You shouldn’t play with what isn’t yours, brother,” he says dangerously.  “How dare you mark what’s mine.  And how dare you mark it so blatantly.”

 

Sam sees Gabriel’s eyes widen faintly before Lucifer closes a hand around his neck and lift him bodily from the floor.  Sam chokes.  He fights.  The world is darkening slowly.  Then, he hears Gabriel shout, “Don’t!” and there is a blinding light.  The pressure is released.  Sam scrambles back.  Despite his worst assumption, it’s Lucifer’s great wings that are burned into the floor.  Gabriel’s blade clatters to the floor and the archangel is gone.  Kali must have released the blood bindings. 

 

Sam stares at Lucifer’s wings.  So, that’s it?  It’s over?  Apocalypse diverted?  Sam can hardly believe it.  For all that Gabriel dug his heels in and refused over and over, he actually did it.  Now, Gabriel is gone and Sam has more questions than when he started.  Exactly what kind of mark did he leave?  

 

—

 

It’s months before Sam sees Gabriel again.  Every morning, he stares at the tattoo on his collarbone.  If he’s being honest, he is a little lost.  It feels as though the rug has been swept out from under him.  He has a tattoo for which he can place no logical meaning and Dean and Castiel are starting forward with…something.  It’s not much now, but Sam isn’t stupid.  He has a small copy of Castiel’s tattoo inked into the top of his other foot, but it is _nothing_ compared to Dean’s copy.  A blue pegasus is imprinted vibrantly under Dean’s left collarbone, huge and ostentatious.  Sam is positive that somewhere on Castiel is a winged piece of pie.  Sam’s getting his own room on hunts these days.  It’s on one of these lonely nights that Gabriel reappears.  

 

Sam is showering and he starts violently when he hears a familiar, unexpected voice say loudly from the bedroom, “Surprise, Sam-a-lam.”

 

As quickly as he can, Sam dries and wraps himself in a towel.  He curses himself for leaving his clothes in the bedroom and steps into the cold air.  Gabriel sits on the edge of the bed, lips parting as Sam closes the door behind him and comes into full view.  His eyes alight on the tattoo on Sam’s chest, the gold of the trumpet glistening in the dim light.  The clock on the bedside table reads 12:37 AM.

 

Sam has to clear his throat before he asks, “What are you doing here?”

 

Gabriel stares a minute more then says, “Answering your questions.”

 

Sam frowns.  Surely Gabriel hadn’t heard—

 

“Oh, you bet your tight ass I did,” he grouses.  “Didn’t matter where I went, I could still hear you.”

 

Sam glances at his tattoo then back to Gabriel.  “So?” he prompts.

 

Gabriel sighs gustily.  “It’s not a mark of possession.  It’s not _my_ mark at all,” he clarifies, “per se.  Maybe this will help.”

 

He stands, and Sam tenses.  Gabriel smiles weakly and unbuttons the top few closures of his shirt before revealing Sam’s robot.  The skin Sam can see is littered with tattoos, but it is Sam’s alone that dominates the skin under Gabriel left clavicle.  

 

“So, what is this?” Sam asks gruffly.  “They’re not the same as the others.  I know they’re not.”

 

“Soulmates, Sammich,” Gabriel says, as if that answers all the questions in the world. 

 

Sam gapes at him.  “No,” he declares.  “There’s no way.  After everything you did—“

 

“I still saved your ass, didn’t I?” Gabriel demands, voice harsh.  “I killed my brother so you bastards wouldn’t have to kill each other.  Doesn’t that _suggest_ something to you?”

 

Sam swallows hard.  Gabriel has a point, but he still shifts uncomfortably.  Gabriel sighs again and takes a few tentative steps in Sam’s direction.  

 

“Look,” he says, reaching a wavering hand to Sam, “give me a chance here.”

 

Sam scoffs and his lips tighten.  He’s ready to say no, to send the Trickster on his way, soulmate tattoo be damned.   But Gabriel’s honey eyes are pleading, so he gives in.

 

“Come hunting with us,” he offers.

 

Gabriel’s wide smile is answer enough and, if he’s honest, Dean’s reaction to the whole affair is the best part.  

 

\--

 

Then he decides, months and months down the road when he learns what his tattoo tastes like on Gabriel’s skin, he decides no, this is the best part.  With Gabriel, it’s easier for more tattoos to appear.  Tattoos from friends and family previously missing start appearing slowly.  Now, what Bobby had said to him years ago clicks into place.  The world is cruel, but he can love.  And it does make a difference.


End file.
